Harry Potter and the Apron of Hufflepuff
by Filme
Summary: Harry Potter has been starved very much with the Dursleys, and discovers his passion for food and cooking. His unique talents eventually bring the magical world new advancements in cuisine. Harry then inherits a powerful artefact, the Apron of Hufflepuff. Probably crack. Binging With Babish inspired.
1. One: Parks and Rec Burgers

Chapter One: Parks and Rec Burgers

Thump! Thump! Thump! The peaceful quiet of Number 4, Privet Drive was disturbed by a massive boy heading down the stairs. Under the heavily reenforced stairs, in the cupboard, a much shorter and thinner boy was groggily woken up. Wild, messy black hair topped a thin face, with bright green eyes. The thinner boy, Harry Potter, reached for his glasses and put them on. He was ready to start a day of chores for his relatives.

"Pottyhead! It's time for you to make me some breakfast," the giant boy yelled into the closed cupboard.

"I'm coming Dudley, what do you want?" Harry replied, opening the door of the cupboard.

Dudley, struggling to think with his few brain cells, squinted his already small and pig-like eyes in thought. By the time Dudley had managed to decide what to have, Harry had already managed to reach the kitchen. "Oi! Freak! I'll have pancakes _and _waffles. Just so you can't have it easy. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Harry shook his head at Dudley's antics and began to mix the batter. As much as Harry loved to cook, it was quite an effort to cook for the Dursleys. With the help of a stool, the nearly eleven year old retrieved all his ingredients for the batter.

Harry wondered if he could get Dudley to freeze again. "Do you want strawberries or blueberries in your pancake?" Like a charm, Dudley froze in thought.

Harry began to retrieve all the pots and pans needed for the perfect pancake and waffle. With practiced care, he began to weigh out the dry ingredients into a large oil drum (feeding both Dudley and his father Vernon was no easy feat). Using a large paddle intended for canoes, Harry lightly mixed the dry ingredients with the milk, water, and cream.

Harry covered the barrelful of batter with a towel, and began to heat a normal sized pan (he hadn't managed to find whale sized pans yet) over the stove. Harry then added some butter to the pan and sprayed his waffle iron with cooking spray. Harry proceeded to heat and lubricate several more pans and waffle irons, as he knew Vernon would arrive shortly.

At last, Dudley recovered from his dilemma regarding blueberries and strawberries. Remembering that he detested being healthy, he loudly yelled, "Neither you freak! Only freaks like you eat fruits!"

"Got it Dudley, no fruits. Anything to drink?" Harry, while Dudley was frozen in deep(for him) thought, started to pour the batter into the various pans and waffle irons. Harry had gotten into a rhythm, and started pouring and stacking the foods rather quickly. Of course, the universe worked against its least favorite main character and thus threw his uncle at him(figuratively).

"Boy! Stop that freakishness with my son! Right this instant!" A very large(larger than Dudley, even) man yelled from across the living room.

"I didn't do anything Uncle Vernon, he's just, er, thinking," Harry replied, fearing another beating and interruption to his beloved cooking.

"Oh, alright then. Very good Dudders, carry on," Vernon happily walked towards the dining table, while Dudley chose this moment to exit his trance.

"Give me pop Harry, and put extra syrup on my pancakes."

"Okay Dudley," the skinny boy responded. He realised he had forgotten something, and asked, "Uncle Vernon, what would you like for breakfast?"

Harry's uncle Vernon, sensing a question that required an intelligent answer, wisely chose the simplest option. "Give me what Dudders is having."

After Harry served the pancakes, waffles, extra butter, extra syrup, extra extra syrup, pop, and extra pop for Vernon, Harry trudged to the kitchen for several hours of dish washing. _While cooking is sure great, I do wish I didn't have to wash the dishes_, he thought to himself.

Once the table was cleared, Harry repeated his prayer for the 978th time while washing the dishes. _To anyone who's watching or listening, I really wish Vernon got a heart attack from all the food he eats._

Harry, after washing all the dishes and eating a few crumbs of the leftovers, looked towards the refrigerator for the rest of his chores for that day.

_Chores:_

_Breakfast_

_Dudder's snack for the zoo_

_Behave at Mrs. Figg's_

_Dinner_

_Laundry_

Harry was rather glad that the Dursleys were visiting the Zoo, as that way they couldn't yell at him. As he prepared the ingredients for two 17-inch pies (Dudley's preferred snack), he overheard a conversation from the living room.

"Vernon dear, the usual caretaker for the boy is ill," said Harry's sticklike aunt.

"Mrs. Figg is sick? How about the others? I think Marge could come over fairly quickly," replied Vernon.

"Marge is out, remember?"

"Well we definitely can't leave the freak behind."

"Yes dear, but we can't bring him along, can we?"

"If it means he won't do any freakishness, we must."

"Alright then, Vernon."

Harry was quite concerned, as he rather enjoyed the company of Mrs. Figg. She would let him cook as much as he wished, though she seemed to have only cabbages in her garden. Disregarding the discussion, he turned his attention towards the pies he was preparing.

He began by placing copious amounts of butter and flour into two food processors. Once processed, Harry dumped the pebbly mixture into an incredibly large mixing bowl (one more suited to housing young trees than food). Adding some water, he gradually mixed the dough together into a large block. This, he wrapped in cling-wrap and placed into one of the Dursleys' large refrigerators.

While the dough rested for an hour, Harry began to prepare the filling of the first pie. He thickly sliced a block of brie, savoring the tangy scent of the cheese. Harry sliced some ham into cubes, feeling the soft and moist texture beneath his fingertips. Placing the cut ingredients aside, he whisked a full dozen eggs together with some cream, forming a quiche. Harry could taste the richness of the cream in the air. Savoring the scent, he moved to prepare the other pie.

Opening several large packets of Oreos, Harry's nose was flooded with the sweet, artificial richness of the creamy biscuit sandwiches. He dumped them all into food processors, grinding the cookie sandwiches into what resembled a coarse sand. After dumping out the sandy particles into a bowl, Harry mixed the crumbs with melted butter. Harry pressed the resultant mixture into a tart pan.

While Harry had his oreo biscuit crust baking, he began to make a second type of filling. While the warmly enticing smell of the crust wafted through the air, Harry added various spices to a simmering pot of heavy cream. After watching the exotic spices mingle with the rich creamy liquid, he added the hot liquid to several large blocks of chocolate. Slowly whisking (with a whisk the size of his head) the mixture together, Harry began growing excited at the prospect of creating such beautiful pies.

~~HPAH~~

Harry heard Vernon's car sputter to a halt in the parking lot of the zoo. He grabbed the knapsack containing Dudley's pies and waited to be let out of the trunk of the car. As Harry was in the trunk, he was in no danger of being squeezed to death by Dudley's bulk. However, Petunia squeezed in the back as well. However, she was so thin that she pricked Harry through the backseat of the car with her bony body.

Once Petunia opened the door, she flew out, being propelled by the compressed mass of her son. Harry, being in the dark and isolated trunk of the car, was none the wiser of what happened.

Vernon was rapidly purpling in rage, suspecting Harry's supposed freakishness for the spectacle (though it was really just physics). He luckily exercised restraint (though he couldn't exercise his body), not wanting to draw the attention of the other people in the parking lot. And thus it was a rather purple Vernon that dragged Harry, Petunia, and Dudley towards the entrance of the zoo.

In the zoo, Harry saw all sorts of animals he'd never seen before. Being someone who enjoyed cooking, he questioned the edibility of the various zoo animals in between being bullied by Dudley. He pondered the edibility of elephants, if he could sautee seagulls, barbeque boars, and the best way to cook a snake. It was in the snake exhibit where Harry pondered the issue of sautée, bake, boil, broil, fry, or steam. He was thinking out loud when he heard a hissed voice.

_Psst, amigo. _

Harry looked around, searching for where the voice came from. He thought he was alone in front of the python exhibit (Dudley went off to see the cobras).

_Amigo, I'm right here. The snake. That's me._

Harry peered closer at the snake behind glass. He timidly replied, "Sorry pal, I really hope you weren't offended by that whole thing with how I'd probably eat you."

_It'ssss alright. I'm quite prone to thinking about odd topics myself. Though for a snake I'd probably recommend something low and slow,._

"Thanks mate, but I think that's my cousin calling me to give him his snacks. I'm Harry by the way."

_My pleasssure Harry. I'm Carmen. Sssee you around_


	2. Two: Il Timpano from Big Night

Chapter Two: Il Timpano from Big Night

(To avoid rehashing canon, the story skips to the first visit to Diagon)

Hagrid, with a tap of his pink umbrella, managed to open a solid brick wall. Harry was dumbfounded, he was struck by so many foreign sights, scents, and even food vendors. Before long however, he was broken out of his stupor and was leaping in joy at the prospect of all the new and interesting things. Harry jumped into the Alley and began to marvel at the strange new world. He saw men in colourful dress like robes, a mop that was mopping the floor by itself, and something that interested him most of all, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. However, Harry was wrenched away from the intriguing dessert parlor, and the giant man dragged him towards a large, white, marble building.

"Come on ye, no point in gawkin' at the ice cream if ya can't buy it."

Harry replied, "But I haven't any money! I could probably work in a kitchen though,"

"We're headin' ter Gringotts. Wizard Bank. Yer parents left ya a handsome

sum"

"Does that mean we can get iced cream?"

"Alright, fine then. But only aftah' we get yer other stuff."

Internally, Harry did a little jig. It seemed to him that, though the cake Hagrid made for his birthday was a severely lacking in everything but salt, the large man still had an appreciation for the culinary arts. While Harry was lost in thought, he had already been dragged up the steps of Gringotts.

The duo entered the goblin-run bank, and very quickly made their way into a counter. Harry was a little scared of the goblins, but a little part in the back of his head questioned whether they had a unique cuisine. However, pushing that part down was a much larger and scarier part: the part of Harry being afraid of the disapproving looks and long ears of their teller.

Without theatrics, the duo was ushered into a cart, when a goblin then took them down to Harry's vault. Within the vault, Harry was dumbfounded at the mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins. Hagrid attempted to come to his rescue. "Those gold 'uns, those are galleons. The silver, they're sickles. The bronze 'uns are knuts. The rate is 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle.

Harry was immediately stupefied once more, and he proclaimed "What! Why are the numbers that way? It's like someone threw a bunch of dice and got those!"

Hagrid replied, "Don't ye put down the Great Dice Throw of 1064 (Not to be confused with the Greater Dice Throw of 1063, when they also used 12 dice to assign random values to their coin system). 'Tis a time honoured tradition Harry."

"Uh, right. So do I just get some of these?" Harry replied, ignoring Hagrid's strange behavior.

"Yep, and I'd reckon you could buy a couple thousand ice creams with all this money. But don' go wastin' it."

Harry started to imagine all the food he could cook and buy. He imagined the expensive spices he could now enjoy. Without another thought in his mind, Harry scooped up some of his newly found gold into a sack Hagrid gave him. Harry then kept imagining; Harry thought of the possibilities he could explore with wizarding cuisine, and even perhaps goblin cuisine.

In fact, Harry was so lost in his own thoughts that he missed the plot-thickening package that Hagrid mysteriously collected from Vault 713.

~~HPAH~~

Before long, Harry had been ushered in and out of various stores. He had stared in wonder at the many potions ingredients, and purchased as many of them as Hagrid would let him. Then, in the bookstore, he browsed the magical cuisine section for books on wizard cuisine. Carrying an armful of cookbooks, Harry walked into Madam Malkin's store for clothing. Hagrid had gone off, saying that he was worn out from all the book buying, and said he'd come back with ice cream.

Walking into the brightly lit store, Harry noted the many mannequins with many different styles of robes. With some degree of relief, he noticed that no one was gawking at his scar. In fact, no one was there at all, except for the eerily humanoid mannequins.

Before the store turned into a horror movie however, a middle aged woman walked out of the back.

"Hogwarts, my dear?"

"Yes madam! Could I please also look at your aprons? You know, for cooking," Harry replied, hoping to finally have an apron of his own (The Dursleys never bought an apron for Harry, as they believed aprons were demonic and evil).

"Why certainly. Here, have a seat on this stool. The tape will measure you up for the uniforms, and I'll bring you a few aprons to check out."

~~HPAH~~

However, Harry disliked the aprons. Even though some were self cleaning, storage expanded, striped, and even signed by some celebrity named Flophart or something, Harry just felt something was off. He paid for his uniform though, and walked out the door, meaning to meet Hagrid at the ice cream parlor.

Harry was walking down the busy street when he spotted a strange little store. It was spaced in between the potions shop and the pet emporium (the latter of which Harry didn't visit, he didn't believe in pets that weren't for eating), but Harry hadn't seen the store when he first walked that way.

Harry was excited and mystified by the store. The thin boy walked into the store called "_Deus Ex Machina: the store for every struggling main character_", and wondered about the odd name. Before he asked about the name though, Harry asked the clerk, "Do you sell aprons here?"

"Yes," the clerk replied, "what kind are you looking for?"

Harry said "something for cooking, please,"

The clerk went to the back and brought out several aprons for Harry. While the clerk was back there, Harry noted all the other items the store seemed to carry. There was a large rock, with a gleaming sword embedded in it. Another part of the store only had a white device labelled _Portal Device: Do not touch. _But these and the other oddities didn't interest Harry at all.

The aprons all were different. Some seemed new, while others seemed centuries old, covered in blood stains from who knows what. One by one, Harry tried some of them on (the ones with blood stains he gave straight back to the clerk). None of them seemed right, until he reached a plain, black one.

The clerk said to him in his best mysterious exposition voice, "Why that apron, it's rather special."

"Why is it special?" Harry asked of the clerk.

Refusing to tell Harry why, he simply shook his head. Despite this, Harry felt the apron, and it connected with him in a strange way, not unlike the way his wand felt in Ollivander's. Harry decided, despite the clerk's mysterious manner, to purchase the apron.

Now wearing his new apron, hauling his new uniforms and cookbooks(unlike the other aprons, this one seemed to lack all magical features, like space expansion), Harry made his way towards Florean Fortescue's. Once Harry arrived there, he noticed Hagrid was still lining up for his ice cream. Despite that, one look behind the counter explained it all. The unfortunate employee of the parlour was scooping one scoop of every flavor of ice cream into a large bowl (it may be generous to call this a bowl, as it was closer in size to a bathtub). Seeing as there were nearly thousands of magical flavors of ice cream, the young employee had already made good pace.

Hagrid noticed Harry, and gave him a large wave, hitting his head on the roof in the process. Harry also lined up for his ice cream, thinking about what options he could get.

Before long (it seemed that the parlour employee had some kind of ice cream scooping spell to help him), it was Harry's turn to order. Harry had never actually eaten ice cream before, so he ordered Duddley's favorite flavor (though not Duddley's preferred quantity of 13 gallons).

Harry savored the treat, as Hagrid started to eat out of his bowl as well. Noticing something odd, Harry asked Hagrid about his ice cream.

"Hagrid, why is your ice cream all mixed up like that? You got one of each flavor right?"

"Well, er, you see Harry, well, I dunno."

"I'm certain it would taste better if you could actually taste some of the flavors Hagrid. Doesn't it just taste like mush right now because you mixed it?"

"I mean, yeh. I wonder why I didn't think about that when I ordered."

"Are you going to un-mix it then? Do it with some of that magic?"

"No."

"Uh, Hagrid, okay."

And so the strange duo ate. Harry enjoyed his salted caramel ice cream, while Hagrid grimaced with every bite he took from his bowl. Before long though, Harry had another question he voiced to Hagrid. "I ran into a blond fellow while I was ringing up my purchases in the bookstore. That one there, walking with his father. I didn't ask you about it earlier, but now I remember."

"Aye, that's Malfoy. He say anything to ye?"

"Nothing interesting. He asked if I was pureblooded, whatever that means."

"Nasty sort, his family is. Pureblood means both yer parents were from old wizardin' families."

"So that's what pureblood means. I threatened to eat him to check if _he_ was pureblooded. I think he's a little afraid of me now."

"Aye."

An amiable silence passed, only interrupted by Hagrid's stomach rumbling periodically as he choked down his ice cream mixaroo. Harry kept thinking, and asked his new friend, "Hagrid, have I really got to go back to my relatives after this? You really can't keep me somewhere? I could earn my keep."

"'Fraid not, Harry. Headmaster's orders. It's only a day or two before your train leaves though."

"Fair enough, I suppose so. Let's just finish these ice creams and head back to my relatives' house then,"

Hagrid nodded as he grimaced on a particularly nasty bite of his vile ice cream mix.


End file.
